Portree

When we left this morning the parking area was already filling up again with vans who did not want to pay the eight, pound charge at the Fairy Pools.

The Cuillin Mountains bathed in a pool of light, with clouds slipping in and out of their peaks.

Today we headed for Portree, the main town on the island. Arriving around midday, we managed to squeeze Marge into one of the few spaces reserved for the vans. As usual, Marge looked as gorgeous as ever, more so now adorned with a spray of Scottish heather.

The town was busy with vans, and we were told by the couple in one, that the campsites on the island were all full for the next few weeks. Having secured a spot right by the water, we decided we would spend our last night on the island here.

The town and the harbour both just a few metres away.

Late afternoon we walked out around the harbour away from the many visitors in the town. The sun warmed our backs, and for the first time since leaving home two weeks ago, we could discard our long sleeve tops and in T-shirts enjoy the afternoon sunshine.

It felt freeing to be able to enjoy the beautiful views across the harbour without throngs of people. We could allow our thoughts to wander as we picked our way through the seaweed on the foreshore.

When Angela was a young girl, she always had to bring a piece of seaweed home from holiday for her grandfather, who swore he could tell the weather by it.

Early evening, we could hear the murmur of the water, as the tide filled the harbour. Sat at the picnic bench behind Marge a family enjoyed fish and chips, one of the group was eating half a lobster and couscous. Lobster seems to be on every restaurant and take-away menu here, it was priced at £12 for half a lobster and chips!

As the sun set turning the blue-sky purple in the fading light, we finished our meal and headed out for yet another walk around the harbour area, much quieter now.

In the town square, outside the Portree Hotel, new greenhouses had been erected to provide sheltered outside seating for the diners, complete with fans for warmer days like today.

Tomorrow, we will head back over the Skye bridge, then retrace our steps back to where we left the North Coast 500 route. Our time on Skye has passed quickly, but we are glad we decided to visit the island.

Glenbrittle

A chilly, but bright start to today. At last, as forecast, the weather had settled. We were up early, luckily, as Angela’s Chris telephoned us to say, he couldn’t start our lawnmower. Some over the phone instructions solved problem, and the photograph of the grass after cutting looked like a good job done.

We were so pleased Chris, you get to mow it again in two weeks time. Whilst eating our breakfast, the car ferry arrived, gliding easily into its berth. Up on the top road we could see the movement of white boxes, the motorhomes were on the road already.

Before leaving Uig, we picked up some groceries at the small shop, then we set off to see Dunvegan Castle and the lighthouse at Neist Point. We’d read that the approach road to the lighthouse was a little challenging, with some pinch points.

O.K. Marge, you’ve been warned.

Dunvegan Castle lies on the foreshore of Loch Dunvegan, the weather was glorious when we arrived, and the surrounding scenery stunning. It was as if we were turning the pages of a Scottish guide book. Then an interesting drive to the lighthouse. Negotiation of narrow roads, potholes, passing places, sheep who insisted on napping at the side of the road and even the odd cow who didn’t mind strolling in front of us on a sharp incline.

‘Come on Buttercup get a wiggle on!’, we could hear Marge saying. Marge tucked in at the side of the road, and ham and tomato baps made and packed in our rucksacks, we walked to the lighthouse.

The views along the coast of green baize punctuated by basalt rock was incredible, we’d waited a long time for such a clear day. Settled in a quiet sheltered area amongst the rocks we ate our lunch, and enjoyed the tranquility away from the crowds.

Tomorrow, we had planned to visit the Fairy Pools, so decided to stay at an area under the trees nearby.

After retracing our steps along the approach road, which was much busier now, we arrived at our overnight spot, already filling up with vans. In the wooded area behind us a strong wind some time ago had felled quite a few of the once majestic pine trees.

The felt covering of green moss, and the angles of the fallen trees made the area look like a scene from middle earth from of Lord of the Rings. We chatted for a while with a young man from Liverpool, who was a keen photographer, and who had given his van up last night to sleep out in the nearby Cuillin Hills.

We were only a ten minute walk from the Fairy Pools, and although weary from the steep climb back to Marge from the lighthouse, we set off on foot to view the Pools knowing we would miss the crowds tomorrow. It was nearly six o’ clock, and we were conscious that the light would fade soon.

The pools were fascinating, magical, filled with water of aquamarine, spanned by natural arches. Despite the time of day, there were still a fair few visitors when we arrived, but they soon left, and we were able to take photographs without having to wait for people to move away. It felt very special. As we prepared to leave, the young Liverpudlian asked John if he could photograph him stood, on a rock high above a waterfall. The camera already set up, John just had to press the button. The shot impressed a young asian man so much, he wanted his wife to photograph him at the same spot, which she was not too happy about. Time, now seven thirty we picked our way back through the rough path, John having to help Angela over some of the larger stones that crossed the water, and at one point having to carry her. We arrived back at Marge at eight o’ clock after a slow walk up yet another hill. A late dinner tonight, and although weary we felt rewarded. We had conquered yet more of Skye’s unpredictable roads, visited the lighthouse and the Fairy Pools. The days have seemed to pass by quickly whilst we’ve been on the island, partly because on the single track roads Marge cannot travel at more than fifteen to twenty miles per hour, and it takes us an age to get anywhere. Tomorrow we will probably take the day a little easier. Yes please, we can hear Marge say. One thing’s for sure we should sleep well tonight.